Marion had started to write a book about her life, sadly she never finished the book. Here is an excerpt. 

Supposedly I was born at midnight and my mother told me the doctor asked her if she wanted me to be on the birth certificate as born the 31st of March, or the 1st of April. As my mother didn't want a fool for a daughter, she chose the 31st. I've wondered ever since if it should have been the former

I came from a well-off, middle class family. My mother related to famous families and my father had risen from lowly beginnings. Class was often mentioned in my family. Quite early in life I learned that class had nothing to do with whether you liked being with a person or not. 

World War ll broke out in September 1939. We had very sparse food from there on. My school closed, and my sister and I had to go to an all boys prep school. What fun we had! One term a new master was introduced called Mr. Sindall (**who Marion would later marry, but who died tragically when he was shot down during a mission in a Lancaster bomber**). By this time I was 15 years old, but very tall and mature looking for my age. I saw him and he was the most beautiful man I had ever imagined. I was not to know he was only 19 himself at that time, and doing a little teaching while waiting to go to Canada to learn to fly for the RAF.

I was a ring leader of my class, and my classmates were always laughing at some of my antics. One of my best (or worst) antics was when I wrapped myself in the school's large Union Jack flag, and stood on the teacher's desk and tap danced as Britannia. Unfortunately, the headmaster came in and stopped the fun. He took me down to his office. He told me even though I was a girl, I would be given the cane like the boys in front of the whole school. Needless to say, I didn't do that again. I was more careful.

The summer days seemed to have been all sunny, which in England was most unusual. In August I was to play in a cricket match that had been arranged for the youth living or staying in the vicinity. As I was captain of my cricket, hockey and tennis teams at my school, I was looking forward confidently to making my mark. The big day arrived, the teams were made up of 21, 18 or 17 year olds and ME! I fielded a cricket ball on my shin, and was commended for bravery by the umpire. I heard many years later that all those handsome young men had died in the war only a month from the day we played together. I had so wished on that day to be older so they would notice me.

We had fun at school, but the wonderful parties we went to before the war were over. We used to have different and gorgeous party dresses and velvet capes. We went to beautiful homes with catered tables with waiters, just like grown ups.. It trained us for the future which unfortunately never quite happened like that again.

We had a nanny called Jenny. She was the mainstay of our lives at that time. She was with us for five years and ran the house when Mummy was away in the hospital. Jenny had been in an accident as a child. Her nose had been damaged, so she could not smell or taste anything. I wondered why she bothered to eat, but she was plump, with dark curly hair and big brown eyes. When we went on walks with her, we would "bump in" to her boyfriend and they would talk for hours while we ran around with our dog, Rajah. He was a beautiful Alsatian. Unfortunately he had been over bred and was prone to awful fits where he could not control his limbs and rolled around in agony.

The war was hotting up, and the enemy bombers passed over us every night. The sound can never be forgotten. We lived about twenty minutes south of London, and London was the target. We were always worried when the Germans came back from their missions as they would unload the odd bomb in and around our area. We lost a whole family of school friends this way. Once we actually had an unexploded land mine in our garden! After our dining room windows were shattered, we were given plywood for the windows. Once Patricia and I were blown off our bicycles from a bomb falling nearby. It made us deaf for 24 hours. Nobody talked about the bombs and planes. It became part of life. 

The war was getting worse. Homes in the area were issued with what were called Morrison Shelters. They were huge steel tables for people to sleep under. Our table was placed along the back wall of our dining room. We put mattress blankets, etc. inside and discovered that no way could we all fit under the table without lying horizontally with our feet protruding. Gas masks were issued, and made a terrible farting noise when one exhaled. That was fun for a minute or two, but they were so uncomfortable and hard to breathe in. For the most part they were kept in their little cardboard boxes with string shoulder straps, and had to be taken with you when you went out. Luckily we never had to use them. We had two army officers billeted  to our house. They lived upstairs in two bedrooms. They left at 7am and returned when we were in bed. It was a good feeling to know someone was braving the upstairs.

… My father was called up to the RAF to help man the balloon sites which were all around the coast of the North Sea and The English Channel. My mother, sister and I lived in a small broom cupboard under the stairs. From memory, Patricia (my sister) being the smallest could stretch out, but my mother and I had to do a sort of half and half. God knows how we kept going, but I guess being young we slept.  

 School continued. We still met Granny for ice cream treats every Saturday -- but travelled by bus instead of car. We never saw any fruit from the start to the end of the war. The government issued bottles of strong orange syrup for each child to take one teaspoon a day. One egg each week, a quarter pound of meat each week (a tin of corned beef if lucky). No tomatoes unless you grew them. Same with fresh vegetables except spuds and a few greens maybe once a month. Many years later an American Pilot friend came to dinner at our house. When he opened a tin of fruit salad at our table, I ate the whole thing. What bliss!

 1939…  One day my mother, sister and I visited a retired Headmistress, Miss Smees,  who was a friend of my Godmother. She lived in a lovely country house in a charming Sussex village. We were sitting in her drawing room, at her tea table surrounded by treasures she had collected over her many years of teaching. A good tea had obviously been greatly enjoyed. No cream buns were left, and now she was "telling our fortunes". She "did tea leaves too", peering into mine she told me I would travel across the sea to a huge continent and live there. It all sounded pretty good.After a while we were asked if we would like to explore her garden. Patricia, my sister and I dashed off to begin exploring her tangly garden, full of lovely surprises for two children who came from the suburbs of London. Honeysuckle, wisteria, roses all fought with each other to be recognized out of this colorful, smelly tangle of shrubs, untended for years. We imagined fairies and witches, and princesses trapped in the hollows of the trees until we came across the vegetable garden. Here there were strawberries, raspberries and summer fruits that could not be resisted. We fell to it and talking stopped. Then we heard the call to come in. My mother who to me always seemed to be surrounded by a radiance was enjoying herself, and everyone was enjoying her. She was dressed beautifully in a dress that seemed to float with large red poppies. My mother suffered from a lot of illness, which caused operations and being away, so we doubly valued the times when she was with us. We said our thank yous and goodbyes, and all piled into my Godmother's donkey cart, with Ebenezer to pull us home if he felt like it!